(Edsel)
RECOMMENDED
Like the Tremeloes, the Action are a good band primarily known for their very peripheral association with the Beatles. But whereas the Tremeloes, the band Decca signed instead of the Fabs, achieved some commercial success in the '60s, the Action have remained mostly obscure. George Martin signed them to Parlophone mid-decade and worked very closely with them across a couple of LPs and many singles before their relationship with the label soured. They never sold many records on either side of the Atlantic, but in the decades since, garage and British Invasion cultists have elevated their output to fame in their circles. Still, few who get giddy over the sound of the Beatles' records or even who have some interest in Martin's body of work (his easy listening record Off the Beatle Track is a forgotten treasure) rarely afford the Action much attention, which is a pity.
The Action is a relatively standard mod group, a cut below the Kinks and the Who in their early years, but one can imagine what Martin saw in them -- for one, their devotion to Swinging London cool (check out the most detached version of "Land of 1000 Dances" in history) is absolute and seemingly quite marketable. For another, although the band is tight enough, Reg King is a stellar lead vocalist -- macho but tuneful, closer in league to Steve Winwood from the Spencer Davis Group than to any of the first-wave bands. The band's tougher edge and driving, grinding beat is a stark contrast to what Martin was used to in working with the Beatles, so the thrill in large part is in hearing how Martin would have approached a band somewhat in the same general class as the Who. It's revelatory to hear his crisp Abbey Road Studios sound applied to aggressive rock; listen to the way he has the backing vocals swirl around a delightfully crunchy band performance on the catchy 1966 tune "I'll Keep On Holding On."
Some have accused Martin of sabotaging the Action due to his preoccupation with the increasingly exciting directions the Beatles were taking, and in turn attempting to shoehorn the Action into similar evolutions. It's hard to parse this out on this compilation since it's not in chronological order, but there is a conflict between rough-hewn R&B and studio psychedelia that, in retrospect, is more intriguing than a large dose of either could probably be. Plus the flowery 1967 numbers like "Never Ever," a stunning Box Tops / Buffalo Springfield hybrid with trademark Martin horns, have aged beautifully. The compilers manage to keep it interesting, and the band certainly does their part, applying amiable enthusiasm even to dumb songs like "Harlem Shuffle." It's hard to imagine any producer being more sympathetic, or offering them more opportunity.
The strongest tunes are either ageless, like the towering piano-driven 1965 R&B slammer "Baby You've Got It" given Martin's trademark "Money (That's What I Want!)" approach, or injected with what now feels like period flavor, like "The Place," which puts conviction behind its simplest pop ideas. Best of all is the Odessey and Oracle-predicting "Shadows and Reflection," the band and Martin at peak with a bouncing, exquisitely harmonic arrangement and a tricky, elaborate composition -- it's the kind of weirdness a soul group can get behind, not at all labored under any Flower Power ideals. The Action excels equally at dance music, and most of all on their American R&B covers; although their take on Curtis Mayfield's "I Love You (Yeah!)" is a dud that comes off like a butt-stupid Van Morrison, they really hit with the serious reconstruction of Martha and the Vandellas' "In My Lonely Room" (putting the Kinks' Vandellas cover to shame) and most of all with the killer Temptations cover "Since I Lost My Baby," peerless prom slow-dance stuff, perfectly realized. All of the above are recommended for DJs looking to move and bewilder.
So even if the Action sit several spaces below the elder statesmen in the British Invasion chest of drawers, their work will still hit hard any advocate of that sound. "Come On, Come with Me" is practically an archetype of the time, and the menace of "Something Has Hit Me" will make you wish Martin had gotten a chance to take a stab at a Stones album. But all this posturing does get boring occasionally, and seventeen cuts of it is a lot to take in one sitting; best to get this one in quick 45rpm doses. And try to avoid the bizarre homophobic dance song "The Cissy," which has a leftover vibe and lyrics like "You got to be a little shy / Although I know that you're a guy."
On the whole, though, Ultimate Action is a feast of hooks, chorus, and soul that's addictive to the ears, and easily recommended to anyone who wants more of that indescribable Studio Two sound. This is a fine band doing find work; it's a shame they weren't rewarded for it.
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